


Nothin' Dirty 'Bout It

by internalunrest



Category: One Direction (Band)
Genre: Anal Sex, Blowjobs, Canon Compliant, Collars, D/s, Dom Louis, Dom/sub, Hiatus, Kneeling, Light Choking, M/M, PWP, Rimming, Sub Harry
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-01-28
Updated: 2017-01-28
Packaged: 2018-09-20 09:58:33
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,709
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9486227
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/internalunrest/pseuds/internalunrest
Summary: Louis is up to something. He has been for a while now, really. It’s like he’s being careful with Harry, which he hasn’t been in alongtime. He puts care into everything they do, of course, but somehow it’s different. He hasn’t been pushing Harry’s limits with anything lately. Harry hasn’t been reduced to tears inweeks, which he hadn’t previously realized was such a common occurrence (or that he needed it so much). It’s making him antsy.Or, Louis buys Harry a collar





	

**Author's Note:**

> Title from DNCE's Naked. Enjoy!

Louis is up to something. He has been for a while now, really. It’s like he’s being careful with Harry, which he hasn’t been in a _long_ time. He puts care into everything they do, of course, but somehow it’s different. He hasn’t been pushing Harry’s limits with anything lately. Harry hasn’t been reduced to tears in _weeks_ , which he hadn’t previously realized was such a common occurrence (or that he needed it so much). It’s making him antsy. Every time he tries to get Louis to snap out of it, though, it goes nowhere. It’s really starting to bother him, making him wonder if he’s done something wrong.   
*

After almost a solid month of confusion, Harry comes home from a meeting one night to Louis on the sofa, drinking a tall glass of water. Toeing off his shoes in the hall by the front door, Harry watches as Louis turns a page in the magazine he’s looking through, though the other boy doesn’t look up. Harry is a bit tired, having fielded questions about the future of One Direction in his interviews all day, so he’s glad to be home. He hangs his coat on the hook above the shoe rack and is about to head into the living room when Louis speaks.  
“Are you hungry?” he asks, and Harry shivers a little. The tone of Louis’ voice gives him an idea of where the evening might be going. He shakes his head, humming his answer to the question. “Good,” Louis says, giving away nothing more. “Have a glass of water. I’ll be in our room in a moment.”  
Harry watches, excitement growing inside him. He should have known that Louis was just building up to an event, that he was backing off before doing something big. Louis can be so dramatic sometimes, there’s no reason for Harry not to have caught on.   
Louis continues flipping through his magazine, not looking up from the pages. Harry doesn’t wait long before he moves into the kitchen, not wanting Louis to reprimand him for standing around and staring.   
After pouring himself a glass of water that he quickly finishes, Harry makes his way down the hall to the bedroom. Louis isn’t there yet, but he hasn’t given Harry any further instructions, so Harry stands in the center of the floor, hands clasped by the small of his back. He can’t see the clock from where he’s standing, but by the rough estimate in his head, Louis makes him wait almost fifteen minutes before coming into the room. Harry is suddenly glad he decided to face the door, because he gets to watch as Louis takes a long look down Harry’s body from the doorway, before making his way over to the dresser.   
“Go on and undress.”  
Harry jumps to comply, his palms sweating a little bit as he removes his shirt, followed by his trousers, then his pants. He folds them neatly and holds them in front of himself, hands clenched in the fabric. Trying not to fidget with anticipation, he wonders idly what made Louis choose today to do this. It seems like they’ve had plenty of free time lately, where their days off overlapped, and Harry bites down on the side of his tongue to keep his questions inside. He knows better than to start shooting off a million questions when Louis has him standing naked and waiting. He doesn’t turn to watch Louis, though he does see him produce a bag from a bottom drawer before disappearing from Harry’s line of sight. The bedsprings sigh when he sits down on the bed behind Harry.  
“Clothes in the hamper. Come kneel.” The instruction comes in a firm voice, though it’s warm. Harry does as he’s told before bringing himself toward the bed. Louis is perched on the edge of the mattress, legs spread to give Harry room between them. The bag from the dresser is sitting beside him on the bed. Harry drops to his knees, lowering his bum into his heels as falls back into position, he wraps the fingers of one hand around the opposite wrist.  
Louis is fully dressed, hands resting just above his knees. “I have something for you,” he says, softly, before reaching up to slide one hand into Harry’s curls. Hot excitement bubbles up in Harry’s chest, and he swallows, attempting to keep his face in check. “I think-” Louis cuts himself off, clears his throat, and starts again. “I’m sure you’ll like it. But if you don’t, you can tell me. Okay, Harry?” he asks, tugging the hair wrapped around his fingers gently in order to make Harry meet his eyes.   
Harry searches Louis’ face, wondering where this is coming from. Louis doesn’t usually present new things so... gently. He almost seems nervous, which doesn’t compute for Harry. Louis always exudes confidence, at least when it comes to knowing what Harry wants. Even when he’s bluffing, Harry can never tell without being clued in after the fact. Harry lets out a breath and moves to nod, though he can’t really do so with Louis’ hand in his hair. “Yes. I understand.”  
Louis grants him a short smile before he lets go of his hair in order to reach into the bag. He pulls out a long, nondescript black box. Harry tries his best not to be impatient, though the possibilities of what Louis could have are running through his mind almost too quickly to keep up with. He forces himself not to chew on his lower lip in excitement.   
Louis removes the lid slowly, then tilts the box down so that Harry can see. His breath seems to leave him all at once, because what’s inside is a thick black piece of leather with a silver buckle at the end. A collar. He lifts his eyes to Louis’, searching the blue for an explanation. He can hear his heartbeat in his ears. His fingers twitch, eager to touch, but he knows better than to go about grabbing things without permission.  
“Do you like it?” Louis asks, eyes wide. His voice is gentle, like he really doesn’t know. Like he hasn’t noticed every time Harry’s breath hitched when Louis put his hand around his neck. Like he’s never heard the catch in Harry’s voice when they talk about their friends who just had a collaring ceremony. Like he thinks Harry would deny him _anything_ , even if a collar wasn’t the most common of his fantasies for a long time now.   
“Yes,” he murmurs, and his voice sounds breathless. He shifts a little, adjusting his weight against his heels. “Louis, yes, I love it,” he continues, because it looks like Louis needs that reassurance. Louis’ shoulders relax somewhat in response, and he reaches into the box to remove the collar.  
“It’s vegan leather,” he explains, and Harry just about melts at the idea of how much thought Louis put into this. “I considered getting you a different color, but I thought this would..” he reaches out with one hand to caress the smooth skin of Harry’s neck, “contrast well.” His pupils are wide, making his eyes look so, so dark. His tongue darts out to wet his lower lip and Harry can’t help but _squirm_. “Would you like to try it on?”  
Harry would roll his eyes if he weren’t currently on his knees on the floor, if Louis wasn’t tentatively nudging at the part of Harry that wants to just roll over and _submit_ when Louis is around. Instead he nods, blinking his eyes closed for a few seconds before opening them once again. He watches Louis’ eyes as the man puts the collar onto him, though Louis is looking down, not at his face. He seems to be mesmerized, movements slow as he buckles the band around Harry’s throat. Once it’s in place, Harry lets out a long breath that he hadn’t noticed he was holding. His shoulders slump forward just the tiniest bit and his jaw goes slack. He doesn’t even have to think about doing these things - they just _happen_.   
Louis slides two fingers between the leather and Harry’s skin, checking whether or not it’s too tight. It makes Harry’s pulse pick up, and he closes his eyes for a moment, just feeling Louis’ warm skin against his own. The fingers are gone too quickly for Harry’s liking. He opens his eyes but doesn't move. Louis is watching him, eyes sharp, pink lips parted just so. He nods toward the recliner that’s nestled into a corner of the room with a small table and lamp positioned beside it.   
“Grab my book for me, won’t you, Harry?” he asks, though it’s more of a command than a question. Harry feels strange when he moves to comply, like his brain is fuzzy and his limbs disconnected. He unfolds himself from the ground carefully, doing his best to hurry back with the book without tripping. He manages well, and when he returns, Louis is looking his entire body up and down. It causes Harry to flush. He can feel the heat moving down his chest, and he almost wishes he could be as tan as he once was, a few years ago. But then he sees the way Louis bites his lip, remembers that his boyfriend _enjoys_ the full-body blush that he can manage to get out of an otherwise entirely shameless man.   
Once Louis takes the book from his hands, Harry folds himself back down into his previous position. He’s knelt for Louis a million times, and the familiarity of the position makes him feel secure, grounded. He feels confident knowing what he’s supposed to do, loves the comfortable silence they create when they’re both simply enjoying and benefitting from each other’s company. He knows it makes Louis feel the same way. They do it from time to time when Harry is stressed or worked up but sometimes, like now, Louis has Harry kneel because they’re about to do something new. It helps Harry to to center himself and push everything else aside.  
Louis pulls his legs up onto the bed and turns so that he can lean back against the headboard. He crosses his legs at the ankle and flips open his book, skimming through the pages until he finds the dog-ear he’s looking for. Harry’s got his chest turned toward the bed where Louis sits, his head bowed slightly and his hands clasped obediently. He closes his eyes, and it isn’t until some time later, when his mind is really beginning to drift, that Louis reaches out and touches. His dainty fingers bury themselves in Harry’s dark curls, rubbing back and forth gently here and there. It’s irregular but soothing. Harry doesn't open his eyes, just lets Louis carry him through the next 30 minutes.   
Other than Louis’ gentle prompting to stretch and move his tired muscles and the regular motions of Louis turning pages in his book, there’s no sound from either of them. By the end of it, Harry is floating pretty extensively. He feels good. He’s hyper-aware of the weight of the collar around his throat, how it remains a sturdy reminder every time he takes in a deep, slow breath. The buckle has been warmed by his skin, and a few times Louis trails his fingers down to trace along the metal. He can’t really focus his thoughts onto one thing, but he isn’t trying to. It’s nice to just _be_ , to let things happen around him and not worry about anything.   
When Louis decides it’s been long enough, he folds the corner of his page and sets the book on the nightstand. Harry’s mind is so fuzzy that he almost misses the movement completely, though he comes back to himself enough to catch when Louis shifts to the edge of the bed. His knees bracket Harry’s shoulders as his feet touch the floor, making Harry feel entirely surrounded by the other man.   
“Stand up,” he orders, though his voice is soft. He waits patiently as Harry does as he’s told, hands reaching up to trail along Harry’s sides. “You did good, baby, real good. Nice and quiet for me. I love when you’re still like that,” he murmurs, and Harry’s chest twinges happily at the praise. Slender fingers dance along his skin, raising goosebumps in their path from his ribs down to his hips. Louis circles his thumbs in the dip next to the bones, and Harry lets out a breath that seems too loud for the room. “How do you feel?”  
Nodding just once, shortly, Harry licks his lips before responding. “Good. Fuzzy,” he starts, parsing through his mind in search of a more specific word, but he can’t find one. “Good,” he reiterates.  
Louis smiles, his thumbs continuing their soothing motion. His clothed knees are snug against Harry’s legs on either side, his chin tilted up to see Harry’s face. “What do you want?” he asks, and from his tone Harry can see again that he’s a little nervous. He opens his mouth like he’s going to keep speaking, but closes it again and waits for Harry’s response.  
Again, Harry spends a moment looking for the right words. He holds eyes contact while he does so, and he sees the instant reaction when he finally gets out a simple, “You.”  
“Okay,” agrees Louis, his eyes flicking down to the collar every few seconds. “Come lay on the bed. On your back, so I can see you.” He stands, moving out of the way as he watches Harry climb onto the mattress, his limbs thrown haphazardly out, an invitation for Louis to join him.   
Louis does so almost instantly, crawling too slowly to hover over Harry’s body, his breath coming in short bursts of warm air. He spends too long looking, and Harry can’t stop the high, quiet whine that emerges from his throat, though he stays still. Louis flashes a quick grin, sharp with intent, before he finally lowers himself down to cover Harry’s body, lips meeting his, hungry in a way that contrasts with the gentle treatment Harry had been receiving since he walked in the front door.   
Louis soon slows the kiss, making it no less passionate but showing a lot more patience than they started with. Harry follows along, content to let his boyfriend take the lead. By the time Louis pulls away, Harry is completely lost in his own mind, anything outside of their bubble a distant memory. Louis must be able to see it in his eyes, because he leans in for one more short kiss, reaching up to trail his fingers down Harry’s exposed side. “No further tonight, baby,” he says, quietly, and Harry just blinks in agreement. His mind is slow, and he feels sluggish when he reaches up to wrap his fingers around Louis’ own. Louis smiles at him, eyes warm, before he closes his eyes again, just feeling the comfort of Louis’ presence.  
*

It takes some time before they’re both entirely comfortable with the collar. Not that they both don’t like it, because they really, _really_ do, it’s just that it’s new. Harry isn’t quite sure how to ask for it, and he doesn’t know how to explain properly why he wants it. Weeks after the first night Louis put the collar on him, they still haven’t done much, at least in the way of sex. The weight of it puts Harry under pretty quickly, and they’d just been getting used to it. “No need to take it too far,” Louis had said.   
Of course, being careful had to come to a head eventually.   
It happens because of one of the shitty rag magazines. Harry’s scrolling through twitter, just seeing if there’s anything interesting, when he sees an article boasting Louis’ name. _‘One Direction star Louis Tomlinson gets cozy with new project,’_ it says, and Harry knows he isn’t supposed to trust anything he reads, but it doesn’t stop him from looking anyway. The article is short, with no sources and full of information that’s entirely speculative. There’s a photo of Louis with one of the girls from that new group he’s mentoring. They’re only smiling at the camera, barely even touching.   
Harry knows nothing romantic is going on, and he’s sure the author of the article knows it too, but it still bothers him. Someone out there will believe it, and they could just dispel all of the rumors if they could just tell everyone about them. Since the moment they’d met, they’ve been loyal to each other, madly in love in a way that Harry can’t believe he found outside of a novel. It’s amazing and overwhelming and he thinks every day about how lucky he is to have this type of bond in his life.  
But that doesn’t make the article any less annoying. He’s not even a jealous person, but this is getting to him. Maybe he’s just stressed, doing too much work lately. He’s nervous about the film, whether or not he’s got the chops for anything outside of singing, and he hasn’t seen his mom in a few weeks now. He really should visit soon. The only problem is that it’s hard to sneak around and see her, especially when he brings Louis, and with the way he’s feeling about this article, he’s not too keen on leaving Louis’ side just now.   
Harry forces himself to exit the article and puts his phone down on the coffee table next to the sofa. His skin feels tight, like he needs to get out of his head for a while. Heading to the bedroom to grab his gym bag, he leaves his phone on the table, deciding not to bring it with him.   
*

A few hours later, Harry still doesn’t feel relieved. Even his punishing trip to the gym hadn’t helped, and he’d also tried to calm himself with a shower. Usually the hot water beating on his shoulders helps him to get his thoughts in order, but today it isn’t enough. He’s been pacing around the house, moving things around and trying to eat off his energy to no avail.   
He checks his phone to find a text from Louis that reads ‘be home in 20. x’. Harry stares at the message for a moment before glancing at the clock, and then impulsively hurries down the hall, attempting to strip as he goes.   
When Louis _finally_ gets home, Harry can hear him move past the front hall and into the living room, the quiet whisper of his socks against plush carpet. He waits patiently, heartbeat ticking up, for Louis to come into their bedroom looking for him. He’s on the floor between the doorway and the bed, leaned forward with his knees slightly apart so that he’s comfortable enough to rest his forehead on the floor. The box that the collar had come in sits front of him, a handful of inches from his face.   
Louis’ footsteps come closer as he walks down the hall. Harry hears him stop abruptly in the doorway. He resists the urge to lift his head and see the look on Louis’ face, the hunger that’s sure to be in his eyes when he looks over Harry’s naked body before noticing the box in front of him. Harry doesn’t move as Louis comes closer, until he feels the gentle press of Louis’ foot against his shoulder, urging him up.   
Sitting up, Harry stretches his shoulders out a little, though he doesn’t release his hands from where they’re joined behind him. Louis’ standing so close that the box is almost between his feet. Harry has to tamp down a smile when he sees that Louis is wearing the socks Harry bought him for Christmas last year, with tiny cactuses on them in assorted colors. It’s hardly the type of attire one would imagine in this situation, and it makes Harry’s chest squeeze a little with happiness.  
“Explain yourself,” Louis orders, and his tone is exactly what Harry was hoping for. He can’t hear any nerves or wariness, which is the cue he needs to take a deep breath and speak.  
“Want you to remind me,” he murmurs, tongue thick in his mouth, “that I’m yours.”  
Louis is silent for a moment before he clicks his tongue and bends at the waist to cup Harry’s chin between his thumb and index finger, guiding Harry to meet his eyes. “Why do you want that?” Louis asks as he draws his hand back, though he doesn’t drop eye contact.   
Harry lets his eyes drift closed for a moment, taking in a deep breath as he organizes his thoughts. His legs are tingling a little now that he’s sitting up straight, no longer cutting off circulation, and he tries not to let it distract him. Opening his eyes again, he sets his shoulders and allows his chin to dip slightly in submission. “People don’t know, that I’m yours. Not like they could. It’s..” he rolls his jaw, trying to find the right way to say it, but what comes out it a feeble, “not fair.”  
Louis’ eyebrows rise, but he doesn’t say anything, allowing Harry to continue at his own pace.   
“I like the reminder, and I like to show you how much I’m yours. Makes us feel... more real. Since we can’t be out,” he finishes, and his head feels weird just from the effort of getting all of it out, even though he knows it was only a few sentences. It seems more important than just that - and going by the look on Louis’ face, equal parts fond and approving, it is. Harry bites down lightly on the inside of his cheek while he waits for a response, but when that takes too long, he stretches his neck so that Louis’ hand rubs against the side of his face and up to his hairline. Louis opens his hand reflexively so that Harry nuzzles against his fingers before twisting his head to press a kiss against the palm of Louis’ hand.   
“Okay, baby. Come by the bed. Bring your collar,” Louis murmurs, before gently taking his hand away and moving across the room. He sits on the edge of the bed, much like he did that first day, and Harry has to remind himself to breathe evenly while he picks up the box and follows his boyfriend.   
Kneeling easily into a familiar position between Louis’ feet, Harry offers up the box with both hands. Louis makes quick work of removing the collar from the box, though he slows as he clasps it, letting the weight of the leather settle against the sensitive skin of Harry’s neck with gentle movements. He caresses the place where one texture meets the next with his thumb, before raising his hand to cup Harry’s jaw as he bends down.   
The kiss he plants on Harry is sweet and lazy with just a hint of tongue. It lasts what feels like forever, and when it’s over, Harry feels dazed, lost in how intimate the kiss was.   
“I love you, Harry,” Louis says, and his voice is so full of emotion that it almost takes Harry’s breath away.   
Making a soft noise, Harry tips forward just enough to press their foreheads together. “Love you too, Lou. So much.” He can feel Louis’ breath coming in warm puffs of air against the side of his mouth, and he doesn’t have to look to know Louis smiling.   
After a moment of just sharing each other’s presence, Louis straightens. His eyes remain happy and playful, but he’s bringing himself back into the headspace of being in control. Harry leans back into his original position, eagerly awaiting instruction.  
Louis nimbly works his fingers to pop the button on his jeans, not rushing or moving slow enough to tease. He’s moving at a pace he might normally when changing, and Harry can’t tear his eyes away from the casual movements. Once his trousers are open, Louis pushes them down a bit so that his briefs are showing, the slight bulge apparent enough, though not as big as it could be. Will be.   
Lost in his staring, Harry starts slightly when Louis pushes out an impatient, “You going to sit there all day?” He nearly chokes on his own tongue in his haste, immediately leaning forward to place his lips against the fabric covering Louis’ groin. It only takes a few moments of nuzzling where Louis is beginning to strain against his pants before the fabric becomes damp from the wet, sloppy kisses that Harry places wherever he can. When he tips his head back, he sees that Louis is staring down at him, pupils slightly wider than normal, though his face is mostly impassive. Harry lets out a whimper, knowing better than to remove any of Louis’ clothing without permission. He clenches his fingers slightly where they rest against his own thighs, trying to keep them to himself, as he goes back to pressing his face and mouth against Louis, breathing in the scent of him where it’s strongest.  
It only takes another minute or two before Louis breaks, gripping Harry by the hair at the crown of his head to tug him away. With his free hand, he shimmies the clothing off his hips, looking much more graceful than Harry could ever hope to be when doing such a thing, especially one-handed. Harry watches, licking his lips, as Louis’ cock is freed from its confines. Once Louis’ jeans and briefs are past his knees and out of the way, Harry is suddenly pulled back in by the hand still in his hair. Louis is holding him too close to do much, but he does what he can in the space he’s given. Louis’ hand in his hair is gripping tightly, and the edge of pain allows his mind to let focus begin to slip away. Sticking his nose in the coarse hair, Harry presses warm kisses against the base of Louis’ dick, though his range of motion is limited.   
Suddenly he’s being wrenched back again, and Louis’ hand grips himself where Harry’s lips just were. Louis moves both hands in sync, using the one not in Harry’s hair to rub the tip of his cock against Harry’s lower lip. Harry only just refrains from flicking out his tongue, though he can’t help but let his mouth fall open a bit more. His eyes flutter closed and he lets himself get dizzy with the weight of Louis’ hand in his hair and the warm skin pressing against his mouth.  
His eyes are only closed for a few seconds before that warmth drops away and he feels strong fingers grasping his jaw. “Eyes open,” Louis says, and Harry follows the order without thinking. “That’s it. Want you looking at me, baby. You look so good,” he hums, mouth parted in a quiet pant. He moves his hand from Harry’s jaw back to his own cock before guiding it into Harry’s mouth in a slow, controlled motion.   
A soft, almost involuntary sound escapes Harry when Louis stops with his length buried as far as Harry can take him comfortably (which, Harry flushes momentarily with pride, is quite far). Louis does most of the work, slowly moving himself out and then back in, but Harry can feel slight pressure from the collar as he strains to chase after Louis every time he moves back. It’s overwhelming and not enough at the same time, and he realizes belatedly that his fingernails are digging into his own skin.   
Louis’ eyes are locked onto where he’s feeding into Harry’s mouth, and Harry rolls his tongue against the sensitive underside of the head when he pulls back, just to see the way his eyes flicker before they lift to meet Harry’s gaze. Fueled by Louis’ positive reaction, Harry surges forward, taking Louis all the way down for a moment, his throat attempting to swallow against the intrusion. He groans, low in his chest, and Louis’ entire body shudders before he adopts a harder expression. He slips out from between Harry’s lips, a string of spit connecting those lips to his cock for a moment. Harry whimpers at the loss, feeling empty and needy without something to ground him. The movement is so abrupt that Harry doesn’t even notice the hand slipping from his hair until it’s at the base of his neck, Louis’ thumb hooked between the leather and his overheated skin. Louis tugs outward, causing the collar to tighten against Harry’s windpipe, and he’s sure he’d let out an obscene noise if he could breathe. As it stands, he can’t really get any air in, and his eyes widen as he stares up at his boyfriend, his brain whiting out.   
He suddenly feels hot all over, his own erection throbbing between his legs. There’s a tightening low in his belly, turning his spine to liquid, and he almost thinks he might come, but then Louis lets go of the leather, and he takes in a gasping breath. He whines, long and needy, his chest rising and falling with the rapid breaths he’s taking.   
“Tell me your color,” Louis instructs, and Harry attempts to get his breathing back to normal. His head lolls to the side a little. He’s green, so fucking green, but all language seems to have left him. He can still feel where the collar pressed against his throat, and he wishes he could see just what he looks like right now, a breathless mess held together only by the hand that’s still at the back of his neck. He whines, wanting Louis back in his mouth, and closes his eyes for a moment.   
He feels Louis’ thumb press into his mouth and against his tongue, pulling his jaw open a bit. “I need a color, Harry. Before I continue,” Louis says, and Harry thinks he nods in response, but he can’t be sure. The digit leaves his mouth and he swallows against his dry throat, shuffling closer to the warmth of Louis’ body.   
“Lou, green. Green,” he mumbles finally, and his voice is hoarse. It shocks him a little, that he’s this affected already. It seems to shock Louis too, if the look on his face is anything to go by, but it also seems that Louis is into it. His eyes darken and he smiles, though it isn’t warm.   
“Good, Harry. Good boy,” he praises, and Harry feels his chest flutter. “I’m not going to ask you again unless I need to, but you’re to tell me if we need to slow down. Got it?”   
He doesn’t give Harry time to answer, though it would have been an enthusiastic _YES_. Instead he hooks his thumb back under the collar. He doesn’t pull on it, just lets the slight pressure tease Harry, who can feel himself slipping out of focus. The weight between his legs is still insistent, but he’s losing touch with the smaller things in the room that he could pinpoint only moments ago, such as the feel of the carpet beneath his knees, or the way his hair tickles against his shoulders. All that he can focus on is Louis. He’s excited but can actively feel his own body relax, slipping toward that headspace where everything is inconsequential.   
When Louis removes his thumb, he also moves to stand, slipping out from between Harry and the bed. “Get on the bed,” he says, staying close but no longer touching Harry. “On your knees facing the headboard.”  
Harry climbs onto the mattress in a way that feels over-eager, though is probably slower than he thinks. His limbs are starting to feel disconnected, not quite in sync with his thoughts. Once he’s in position he feels the mattress shift behind him, and suddenly warm skin is pressing against his back. Louis must have stripped while he was getting on the bed, but Harry doesn’t remember hearing it happen. Familiar hands wrap around his waist and snake down his stomach, coming to rest in the dip between his hips. Soft fingertips trail up his length, just a whisper of sensation, and he tips his head back to rest it on Louis’ shoulder. One of the hands reaches down, between his legs, brushing gently against his balls and inner thighs. Harry shivers, body tensing when the other hand wraps around his heated skin. It’s nice, feels good, but again, he almost feels removed from it, everything seeming hazy because of how elated he feels.   
Louis’ warm breaths puff against the crook of his neck, before his lips attach to the skin just under the collar. Harry’s breath hitches, a broken moan leaving him as Louis begins to suck at the skin, teeth scraping gently. His hand pumps Harry a few times before letting go and gripping his hip to keep him stable. Harry hadn’t even realized he was swaying until Louis’ firm grasp stops him. It’s good that Louis is knelt behind him, so he only has to lean a little bit in order to let the other man support some of his weight. Louis works at his neck until the skin is raw, and Harry gets a thrill at the fact that he’s sure it’ll bruise. When he finally pulls back, his breath cools the wet skin, a sensation that Harry can’t get enough of.   
The hand Louis had used to tease Harry’s thighs lifts to his neck, gently running over the new mark. The motion is almost reverent until Louis switches fingers to dig his thumb into the sensitive area. The muscles in Harry’s shoulders tense, but before he can respond any further, Louis is bending him at the waist. His arms reach out reflexively to keep him from landing face-down onto the mattress, and the new position forces his arse backward, where it presses hard against the man behind him. He hears Louis’ sharp intake of breath, can feel how hard his cock is, pressed snug against Harry’s bum. He’s rocked forward as Louis grinds against him, slow and dirty, and his own head drops to hang down between his shoulders.  
“Fuck, baby. You should see yourself, you look so fuckin’ good, all stretched out for me. Reach up and hold the headboard,” encourages Louis, his voice rough with arousal. Another sharp breath comes once Harry’s hands are wrapped around a slat in the headboard, the muscles in his back no doubt shifting as he does so. “Don’t move.”  
Harry is suddenly alone on the bed, and it hits him hard, how vulnerable he is like this. His throat goes tight for a moment before he begins holding his breath so that he can hear Louis’ gentle footsteps against the carpet. The other man must be able to tell that Harry is distressed, because he lets out a low sound, and his movements quicken. “I’m right here,” he murmurs as he begins his approach of the bed. Harry lets out a breath, too far under to chastise himself for being so needy when Louis hadn’t gone more than a few feet away. The mattress moves as Louis gets back on, his hands instantly moving to soothe the skin on Harry’s back and sides.  
“You’re going to wait,” he states. Before Harry can wonder what he means, his explanation comes by way of reaching between Harry’s legs in order to put a cock ring on him. Harry squirms, unable to stop himself, allowing a soft grunt to leave him. Once the toy is on, Louis pats his bum once, before dropping down to press a kiss right at Harry’s tailbone. He soon seeks lower, the tip of his tongue trailing down to meet Harry’s hole with tender, slow licks. No stranger to taking Harry apart, Louis’ knowing movements make Harry begin to tremble, his thighs flexing excitedly. The sensation isn’t quite _enough_ , but it’s making his entire body writhe with each ministration.   
Feeling spacey and light-headed, Harry doesn’t make the conscious decision to thrust his hips back to meet Louis’ tongue, but he finds himself doing it anyway. It sends a flush down his body and he makes himself be still, be _good_ for Louis. He earns himself a short hum of what sounds like approval, and the praise bursts in Harry’s chest.   
Cool, slick fingertips press against him after only a handful of minutes, and he lets out an extremely high-pitched sound in response. He hadn’t even heard the _snick_ of the cap on the bottle. He knows Louis’ is going to fuck him, _claim_ him, and he can’t wait. He’s less worried about getting off than he is about drowning himself in Louis, feeling the other man inside and around him, covering him entirely. By the time the third finger breaches him, covered in lube and spit and accompanied by Louis’ tongue, Harry has tears in his eyes. He’s never been more ready for something in his life, Jesus. He wiggles his arse a bit, absently hoping Louis will take the bait.   
Thankfully, he does. After a lingering graze over Harry’s prostate, he removes his fingers and wraps them, still slick, around Harry’s hip. “Turn,” he says, applying pressure until Harry can gather himself enough to roll over. When he does, Louis is knelt in the vee of his legs, lips red and mouth shiny from eating him out. It sends a thrill through him to know that even as he takes the commands, he’s still got an effect on the other man.   
Harry looks to Louis’ eyes, but Louis isn’t looking back. Instead his gaze is focused on Harry’s cock, which, when Harry follows his line of sight, is flushed dark as it lays against his lower belly, thick and heavy with arousal. It’s on the back burner right now, though, and Harry grunts to get Louis’ attention.   
The older man smiles, wickedly, before stretching his body over Harry’s. “I wonder if I should just ride you,” he says quietly into Harry’s ear, with a tone as though he’s mulling it over. “Your cock looks so pretty, baby, ready for me like that. You’d get more out of the ring that way. I could have you fuck me for hours,” his fingers lift to trail over Harry’s nipples, pinching gently here and there, “and then decide if you should get to come after that.”  
The idea is interesting, but Harry is torn between Louis being in control and how badly he wants Louis inside him right the fuck now. He tilts his head to look Louis in the eyes, forcing himself to focus even though it’s difficult. “Please,” he whispers.  
“Please what?” Louis urges, his tone clipped.   
Harry is trembling, unable to keep his body still because of the anticipation. “Ple- please, no. Want you,” he gasps, trying to convey his thoughts but struggling to find the words through the haze of his mind. All he can think of is the heat of Louis’ hand resting on his leg, and the hungry way the other man is looking down at him.  
Louis reaches down and sinks two fingers into Harry, making his eyes roll back. He keens, and it’s so needy that it takes even Harry by surprise. Nodding, Louis flashes a quick grin. “I know what you want, baby, it’s okay. I’ve got you,” he soothes. He then leans over to plant a kiss against the lovebite he’d left on his neck earlier, tracing it with the tip of his tongue. Harry gets distracted by the attention, only aware of the way Louis sucks gently against the skin, the way Louis bites at it, strengthening the mark. Only aware of Louis, Louis, Louis.  
He’s so overwhelmed that he doesn’t notice anything else Louis is doing until he feels the head of Louis’ cock pressing up against him. He gasps, his body twitching, and lets out a slow moan when Louis finally presses inside. He doesn’t stop his attention on Harry’s neck, though he allows his mouth to drift to Harry’s collarbone, over his shoulder and down to place kisses across his chest as he begins a steady pace with his hips.  
Harry feels as though he’s melting into the bed, the sounds he’s making disappearing behind the feeling of Louis’ skin against his own. He breathes with each drag of Louis’ dick, his muscles letting go of all tension. Louis is speaking to him, quietly, though he doesn’t hear everything. He catches pieces of praise, of Louis saying how beautiful Harry is, how much he loves him. Harry lets it all wash over him and surround him until he feels like he’s floating, suspended by Louis’ words and his lips and his skin.  
It’s amazing, to say the very least.  
When Louis removes the cock ring after an indeterminable amount of time, Harry vaguely registers it. He’s on the edge, has been since they started, but the need is less immediate. Louis will tell him when to let go. Louis will take care of him.   
At first he doesn’t know what Louis is referring to when he cups Harry’s face and murmurs, “Yeah, babe, I will. I’m gonna take good care of you,” and he wonders if he’s saying his thoughts out loud. Louis’ answering smile answers the question for him, and he sighs, happy that Louis is with him.   
They kiss again, Harry attempting to contribute as much passion as Louis, but Louis seems content to take the lead. He presses his tongue inside, his thumbs gently caressing Harry’s cheeks as he does so. It’s sweet and it makes Harry feel so loved and cared for that he feels tears form in his eyes. Louis just brushes them away before moving to kiss the tear tracks across Harry’s temples. “You’re so good for me, Harry, baby, you’re perfect,” he praises. His movements are coming quicker, his hips angling to hit Harry’s prostate on each thrust. It’s too much and Harry isn’t sure that he can last anymore, not with the way he feels, with Louis wrapped around him so that he can’t see or smell or hear anything else.  
“Go on, let me see you come apart for me,” Louis bites out, his breath hitching, before he buries himself deep and holds. Harry can feel his body begin to shake as he comes only a moment after Louis, his cock spurting over his belly, untouched. Louis watches with reverent eyes, lips parted and chest heaving. Harry wants so badly to close his eyes, but Louis told him not to, at some point, and Harry isn’t going to let him down. He watches Louis’ face, the way he fits back into his body after his orgasm, his eyes taking in every inch of Harry that he can see.   
He’s still for too long and Harry whines, wanting him closer. He clenches his fingers against the blankets underneath him, tilting his chin up. Louis complies easily, leaning forward to press his body against Harry’s, mindless of the sticky mess between them. He props himself up with an elbow beside Harry’s head, smiling softly as he traces his fingers, feather-light, up Harry’s body. When he presses into the lovebite on his way past it, Harry lets out a moan, unable to keep it in. Paired with the unrelenting presence of the leather around his neck, Harry feels claimed in a way he never has before. It’s overwhelming enough that he has to bite back a noise like a choked-off sob. Louis’ eyes are bright as he lays his hand over the band of the collar, his fingers tenderly stroking the smooth skin beside it. Harry’s eyelids flutter as he takes in the soothing sensation, turning his head to tuck his face under Louis’ chin.   
*

Harry doesn’t remember falling asleep, nor did he make the conscious decision to do so, but he wakes up some time later regardless. The light in the room has changed - the windows are letting in less sun, and the bedside lamp is on. His eyes focus on Louis’ face, right in front of him. The other man is kneeling on the floor beside the bed, brushing Harry’s hair away from his forehead. His touch is gentle, as is his voice when he speaks.  
“Hey sweetie. How’re you feeling?”  
Harry takes a few moments to think about the answer to that. His head is clearer than it was earlier, though he still feels a bit slow in his own mind. The collar is still a persistent weight against his throat, but he’s aware of his surroundings, like the fact that his belly is no longer sticky, meaning Louis must have cleaned him up while he was sleeping. He glances over to the bathroom door, where light is spilling through, and Harry can hear the sound of running water in the tub. He looks back to Louis, offering a small smile. “Good,” he finally responds, as he reaches up to gently clasp his fingers around Louis’ wrist. “Really good.”  
Louis smile is wide and bright, and he makes no effort to tone it down. “Good,” he agrees, before placing a soft kiss to the corner of Harry’s mouth. “I’m drawing you a bath. I can wash you, if you’d like,” he offers, sinking his fingers into the hair at the top of Harry’s head in order to massage his scalp. Harry practically purrs, tilting his head up into the touch.   
“Please,” he says, content to let Louis dote on him for a while longer, until he feels more in control of his body. Louis nods and moves to urge Harry into an upright position, one hand heavy on the back of his neck, over the collar. Harry shivers a little before blinking his eyes into focus and following Louis’ lead into the bathroom, his body singing happily even as he notices the places where he’s sore. Louis’ doesn’t remove his hand from the collar until they reach the edge of the tub, and he looks to Harry’s eyes for permission before he unbuckles it.  
“You can put it back on when we’re done,” he says, and Harry nods, looking forward to spending the evening wrapped up in Louis.

**Author's Note:**

> As always, kudos and comments keep my crops flourishing. Thank you to my angel [beta](https://shiningdistraction.tumblr.com) for helping me through yet again <3


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